Midnight in the Garden of Greenhouse Three
by Greenstuff
Summary: Neville is having the perfect night. Well, at least until something bites him. And then there is the matter of the unwanted visitors...
1. Poor Neville

Neville loved Greenhouse three in all weather, but he loved it most of all when it rained, the pitter-pat-pat-patter of the rain drumming on the glass above his head the soundtrack to a perfect night. Plants were ever so much better than people. They didn't snap at you – well, verbally anyhow he thought ruefully, as the Fanged Geranium he was tending grabbed his left index finger between its razor sharp teeth. He yanked his, now bleeding, finger free.

"Ow! What did you do that for?"

The plant waved its fuchsia head menacingly.

Outside the rain was heavier now. The pitter-patter-pit-pit-patterpatter-pit was so loud Neville could no longer hear the whinging of the over-manured screechsnap in the corner or the sympathetic hoots of the honking daffodils. He also did not hear the creak of the door or the thwop-thwap of wet cloaks tossed aside on a work table.

Neville fished out a bottle of modified wound-cleaning potion Hermione had brewed for him the week before, she really had an uncanny brilliant when it came to potions- not like him. Sometimes he wondered how she stood all that extra time in the lab with Snape, but mostly he tried not to think about it. Anything that kept him away from Snape was a gift he wasn't going to examine too closely. Three drops on the cut, a sudden flash of pain accompanied by a hiss and the finger was as good as new. Keeping a wary eye on the still waving head of the geranium, he returned to work transplanting the plant to a new pot.

He had successfully pulled the plant from the soil without receiving another bite when the rain stopped.

For one perfect second greenhouse three was completely silent.

From the other side of a flutterby bush that badly needed to be pruned, came a sound halfway between a moan and a growl.

Eyes wide, Neville dropped the geranium and reached for his wand. His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry – some Gryffindor I am – as he crept quietly towards the bush.

There was another sound. Definitely a moan. And not a moan of pain.

Neville's face flamed. This was the worst part of prefecthood. He knew other prefects, like Ron Weasley, loved catching couples "in the act" – some warped voyeurism Neville didn't want to know about … but for Neville it was the worst thing next to double potions.

There was a gap in the flutterby bush, just large enough for Neville to see through. What he saw made him wish he hadn't. "Hermione?" He cried, in true thoughtless, Gryffindor fashion.

Hermione's eyes went wide. Her black-haired paramour whipped around, searching with beetle black eyes for the person who had dared interrupt their midnight tryst.

Why do things like this always happen to me? Neville thought mournfully as his consciousness lost the battle and he collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.


	2. The other side

"Ohnnohnoohno…" Hermione paced from one end of Green House Three to the other muttering to herself.

"Cease and desist!"

Severus' sharp voice brought both muttering and pacing to a halt. She turned to face him, met his warm dark eyes and felt the icy knot in her stomach tighten. _Stupid! A moonlit stroll through the grounds… What were you thinking Granger? What if it had been Professor Sprout? _She dropped her eyes to Neville's pale face, still slack in unconsciousness. She remembered the time in first year when she'd petrified him and hoped Neville would be as forgiving this time, though she doubted it. Snogging the professor he feared and hated more than anyone was hardly on the same level as helping Harry save the school.

"You should go." Severus' voice rose above the pitter-patter of rain on the greenhouse roof. "I'm going to give him a restorative draught and it would be best if you weren't here when he awakes."

Hermione stood stubbornly still and shook her head. "No. There's a restorative draught in Neville's kit on the table, I'll give it to him once you're gone. I know he saw me, but I might be able to convince him I was…"

"Alone?" he finished her sentence, raising one eyebrow sceptically.

"…Or with someone else. Neville isn't stupid Severus."

The eyebrow jumped higher in an almost comical expression of disbelief. "And here I was going to obliviate him." Severus' tone was mild, but Hermione could tell that he was not going to go along with her plan.

"Fine, resort to crass mind-rape." She snapped. Of course Severus wouldn't understand the power of friendship, of trust, he'd never had friends like hers.

"Would you rather see the look of disgust in his eyes?" He asked, eyes turning cold and hard as he deliberately lashed out with what would hurt her most.

Hermione reeled as if she'd been struck. With a single, silent glare she stormed past Severus and Neville's prone form, grabbing her cloak on her way, and stormed out into the night.

Severus watched her go with a small smile of self-deprecating satisfaction. He had an uncanny talent for driving people away. He walked silently over to the work table where Longbottom's kit lay open and picked up the vial of restorative draught. Severus uncorked the bottle, tipped Longbottom's head backwards and dumped the contents of the vial down the boy's throat.

In a few seconds Neville's eyes opened. He stared up at Professor Snape in wordless horror as the events of the evening came back to him.

The professor backed away. When he was in the doorway, half in the greenhouse and half in the rainy night outside, he raised his wand. "Obliviate."

Neville stared up at the top of the Greenhouse in confusion. He rolled to his feet and looked around. His eyes rested on the flutterby bush, though he couldn't quite remember why, the sight made him slightly ill. _Why me? Why is it always me?_

A/N: I did not intend to write a second part of this but Hermione wanted to have her little meltdown in a public forum. Hope you enjoyed it. Please Review.


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